


A fudging disaster!

by oliverwalsh



Series: Holidays with Coliver [1]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M, basically a future drabble abotu the coliver from my other fic ok ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliverwalsh/pseuds/oliverwalsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the start of December and it really does seem like a perfect time to make some Christmas candy. Except, nothing ever goes like it should in the Hampton family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A fudging disaster!

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the same universe as my other parents!Coliver story, except about ten years later. It's just a bunch of drabbles about their December one snowy, chaotic winter.

It has been many years since Christmas wasn’t chaotic. Like, at least ten. But this is the first time in five years it is their turn to host. Five fucking years. They’ve gained another child in that time - the most chaotic one of them all, as if hosting wouldn’t be trouble enough with four semi-wild children. No, there has so to be a real wild one. Of course there has to be. How else are they supposed to fully lose their minds?  


“Do you want to, like, recap the last two minutes for me?” Connor asks, attempting to let go of the rage as he stares down at his youngest son. He’d only gone to the god damn bathroom. Just for a quick pee. Yet, those two minutes seems to have been enough to create a total disaster.  


“Well, she—,” Finn starts, rubbing his head thoughtfully. There’s some fudge on his soft brown cheeks; and Connor has to fight the urge to fatherly lick his thumb and clean it off.

“ _She_ is three,” His father cuts him off, groaning loudly. Of course, there can’t only be a wild one. There has to be an enabler, encouraging the wild one. “And I know for certain that she can’t reach that high. That’s why we kept it there in the first place.” 

“Yeah, but…,” Finn rubs his head, clearly none the wiser how to talk him out of this conversation. “She just has such a cute face.” That is a good point. A very good point, actually. 

“Connor?” His husband calls from the bigger bathroom. “I’m not, like… I kind of need your help here? This isn’t working. Like, at all.” 

“I’m coming!” He shouts back before turning back to his son. “You can start cleaning up this mess, or so help me God.” Finn rolls his eyes but heads towards the kitchen counter to find a dishcloth before Connor is out of the room. He’ll give him that. He’s definitely the best cleaner. If this had been on Grace, she’d probably simply cover it all with paper and consider the job done. There’s always something positive in every disaster. 

She’s standing in the bath tub, brown-ish water up to her knees, with a broad grin on her face. Her grass green eyes glitter with mischief, and smugness. He wishes he was surprised, or at least new to that look. Sitting on a stool next to the tub is his husband, a wild look on his face as he attempts to scrub the fudge batter off her arm. 

“It looks like I’m standing in poop water!” She shrieks, somehow managing to look even more pleased. “It’s so poopy!” 

“We’re going to have to buzz it. It ain’t coming out of that hair and I’m afraid to rip it all off if I keep going, so, I’m not going to do that,” Oliver announces, turning slightly to look at his husband by the door. 

“B’s gonna hate that,” is the only thing Connor manages to say, rubbing the back of his neck. It’d been less than a week since Brandon decided to get rid of his long black locks to get a buzz cut; something he had been quite excited about. Now, he was going to have to share the spotlight with her which lately seemed to be comparable to being eaten alive by flesh-eating bugs. At fifteen, their oldest son had recently began to distance himself from the family. Connor thinks it is about time; as much as he loves him, he strongly believes Brandon deserves his own personal life. Oliver, on the other hand, has quite a struggle with accepting that his son doesn’t want to be included in the process of making dinner every night together with his siblings, of which only one has reached an age with more than one number in it. 

“I’m gonna look like Brandon! Only tinier!” Sadly for him, as her oldest brother, he’d become quite the hero. And not just because he managed to down fifteen pancakes in one sitting once. “I want the buzz!” 

“Did you honestly leave him out there alone?” Oliver asks, wrinkling his nose as he tries to get his daughter to not sit down in the brown water. 

“He’s cleaning up. He’s the brains, she’s the body. He won’t do a thing without someone to do it for him,” He snorts, shaking his head. “You want me to get the buzzer?” 

“I can buzz. You’ve got a mess to clean and fudge to re-do. I’m being serious, Con, you haven’t faced my mother fudgeless before. It’s not pretty, and it won’t happen in my house.” By the time he enters the kitchen again, Finn is busy licking batter off the floor where most of the fudge hit. 

“Yo, dude!” Connor exclaims, grimacing as he rushes over, lifting his son up. Finn licks his lips, looking pretty pleased despite being interrupted. 

“Are we going to make some more, dad?” He asks, an excited grin on his face. His grey eyes are glittering; like a miracle, fudge happens to be his favourite. 

“Please, start spending more time with your other sister.” Gracie would never eat fudge batter off the floor. She’d at least scoop it up with a spoon first. 

“Darth Vader is pretty funny,” Finn shrugs, going back to scrubbing the floor to get rid of the last of the batter. “Grace only wants to talk about Harry Potter, and I already know what house I’m in. She gave me a ten page quiz yesterday! She’s expecting it back tomorrow. What do I do, dad? She’s trying to prove I’m not Gryffindor. I _am_ Gryffindor. She thinks I’m Hufflepuff, dad. I don’t think ‘puffs are bad, I’m just not one.” 

“We’re not calling her that,” His father snapped, rubbing his temples. Recently turned three, their youngest had suddenly decided that the only valid name for her would be Darth Vader. It’d been a week, but hopefully it’d pass very soon. He didn’t mind it as home as much; but shouting after Darth Vader at the supermarket never got less embarrassing. Oliver, however, refused to put her in a leash - so he settled for name neutrality for the time being. As for the Harry Potter situation… sometimes he truly wondered why he’d expected his kids to grow up any different than this with a father like Ollie. 

“She told us to.” 

“We can go back to calling her Darth Vader in an hour but right now, I want to focus on making the fudge, and making the fudge only. Can you agree to those terms?” He mutters, bending down to help clean the rest. Besides, it’d been kind of his fault for thinking he could leave them without supervision for two god damn minutes. 

“Aye, aye, Captain!” His son shouts, beaming at the thought of the fudge he’ll soon be making. “We should put some sprin—” Then he sees something behind his father, eyes widdening as he grins. “Look at Darth, uh, Billy, dad!” Connor turns around, with a puzzled face, to find his daughter running towards him - butt-naked with hair so short she almost looks bald from a distance. 

“Da— _Billy_ ,” Oliver’s head pokes out from the bathroom, holding her Toy Story bathrobe in his hands as he stumbles after her. 

“Look at me, daddy! I’ve got no hair! My head’s like an extra butt now!” She cries out, stopping just in front of him with a big, toothy smile. 

“Wow, can I feel it?” Finn asks, rushing over on all four. 

“Uh huh, feel my head-butt,” Billy says, flashing him a grin as she leans her head down, patting it once. “It’s soft!” Connor groans, earning a “Don’t I know it” look from Oliver as he helps their daughter into her bathrobe. 

This is going to be a _long_ holiday.


End file.
